


"Vulnerable"

by The_Fiercest_Vulpine



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Boogeyman - Freeform, Head Cannon, M/M, Pitch Black - Freeform, Tsar in my own style, tsar lunar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:06:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fiercest_Vulpine/pseuds/The_Fiercest_Vulpine
Summary: The man in the moon is on earth now and in a relationship with Pitch Black.Now, he is learning to love and help Pitch accept love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tsar Lunar is depicted as i draw him on dA, and you can find me there.  
> I am FoxDragonLover on DeviantArt, so looking at that will help with visuals.  
> This is my first post, so go easy on me!  
> \-----------------------------------------

_"Eaaasy, easy,"_ he uttered softly.

Though they were about a week and a half into their new, very slow relationship, Pitch was still anxious about touching.  
After centuries of touch only ever leading to pain of some kind, he was naturally very feral when it came to physical contact.  
But the man from the moon was patient, and let Pitch know what he was going to do before he attempted to do it.  
They were in a spare room at the North Pole, in the workshop.  
Sitting on one of the large, soft beds with only dim light coming in.  
It was mid morning, and Tsar was retracting his hand from an attempt to gently touch Pitch's shoulder.  
A warning in the form of a growl told him to stop and try again in a minute.

_"I know this is hard for you, but you're doing great."_

The Boogeyman couldn't exactly form words.  
His right side to Tsar, he watched him nervously from the corner of his eye, brow furrowed into an uneasy frown.  
Speaking of those eyes; they were silver as a bell, so much so they were almost white -- a testament of his dis-ease.

_"I'll be slow, I promise."_

Tsar was very observant.  
He'd noticed the lines under Pitch's eyes ever since he had come home from a night of spreading fears.  
This concept of introducing casual touching was a mutual decision they chose to start trying a few days ago, so by no means was Pitch being forced to do something he didn't want to.  
Tsar had hugged him a couple times before now, both times of which Pitch wasn't expecting and ended up frozen in place.  
It's not as if Pitch couldn't handle touch ever -- he just wasn't used to it and when he knew it was coming, he tended to expect pain.  
Usually he would just tense up and relax quickly after being touched, but today was different.  
It had been three days since Pitch last slept, which is the normal routine for him.  
But he had quietly chosen not to go to bed, and his exhaustion was apparent.  
This was no doubt contributing to his struggle with the touch therapy today.  
God, did his eyes ever look sore and cold inside.  
Tsar tried again when Pitch finally became less tense.  
He reached out a pearly grey-blue hand, soft fingers reaching for Pitch's shoulder.  
And just as before, the Boogeyman's nose buckled and his brow fell heavy while an animalistic snarl resonated from his throat.  
His jagged white teeth glared through shiny black lips, but Tsar wasn't afraid of him.  
He was sad for him, he wanted to try and make the pain go away.  
He wanted to ease his mind so he would relax and go to sleep like he was supposed to.

_"T-Tsar......"_

He looked away, a hiss escaping him while his body trembled.  
He didn't want to end up hurting Tsar, be it biting him or otherwise.

_"It's okay."_

Those two little words seemed to snap the ferocity right out of him for a moment.  
He looked at Tsar, silver eyes sad and wide and worrisome.  
Tsar smiled softly.

_"It's just me._  
_I won't do to you what others have done."_

_"I know that..."_

Pitch looked down at the bed, irritated with himself for being so withdrawn.  
Touching him wasn't always difficult, but he was in a bad mindset this day, and it was affecting him.  
He swallowed, a fearfulness coming through those beautiful windows to his soul.  
For a moment Tsar paused to just look at him.  
Pitch was so unique, so different, the definition of one of a kind.  
A more perfectly blended embodiment of man and animal that no vampire, werewolf or any other mythical hybrid could advertise.  
Those beautiful broad shoulders, long thick neck, inhuman eyes, the raven-like hair, the soft dark appearance.  
Pitch was magnificent.  
But however magnificently designed he was, his grace and glory were not enough to save him from his troubled mind and restless soul.

_"Just do it."_

_"I'm sorry?"_

Pitch looked at him boldly.

_"You're just going to have to do it without me looking this time._  
_I'm being a damn idiot but I can't help it; I don't want to turn on you."_

Tsar smiled more, seeming almost amused.

_"Pitch, I don't expect you to hurt me."_

_"No?_  
_If I can draw blood from North's yetis with just a bite, I can only imagine how easy it would be to bleed your thin skin..."_

At that, the tone of tension and sadness seemed to momentarily become lost as curiosity took its place, Pitch's mind trailing off in thought.  
His eyes studiously scanned the man sitting beside him.

_"...Do you bleed red or blue?_  
_I'm curious."_

Tsar stared at him for a few seconds before blinking once.

_"...Blue."_

Pitch's eyes opened a little more, fighting the tiredness.

_"A very sick part of me wants to see that..._  
_Mine is--"_

_"Dark reddish black?_  
_I know."_

Pitch looked a bit shaken by how easily Tsar said that, but not out of fear; out of sadness.  
Tsar was sad, too, because the only reason he knew the dark color of his blood was because he'd seen him wounded from his position on the moon.  
He also knew that Pitch's knowledge of this was embarrassing for him, as being wounded for all to see was not something he was proud of.  
But as Pitch turned away, Tsar finally planted a warm hand on the darker entity's shoulder without him looking -- just as he'd suggested.  
Pitch tensed and growled deeply, eyes closed while the shade over them thickened threateningly.  
But Tsar never wavered, instead letting his thumb roll back and forth slowly over the thick fabric Pitch's robe.  
Pitch's chest heaved in a steady rhythm, teeth still showing while he breathed more heavily, nostrils flaring with each exhale.  
It was hard to watch, because Tsar knew this change in respiratory action was a result of Pitch having anxiety.  
It was painful, the comfort.  
Such soft, tender touches by this man, but the pleasure itself brought out a deep, longing emotional toil Pitch couldn't quite grasp, and it made him hot on the inside.  
He craved it so much, but also feared it so much.  
Little did he know the pain came because those gentle touches were healing him, dealing with his fear and making him open up.  
It would be a long time yet before positive physical contact ceased to make him so confused.  
In spite of all this, he allowed Tsar to touch him, and as the seconds passed he calmed down more and more.  
A pressure was building under his eyes, and as he finally hid his teeth and his face scrunched Tsar wondered if he would become emotional.  
He never did.  
Instead he exhaled a last hard time, and finally looked relaxed enough to start leaning himself subtly toward his caretaker.  
Whenever Pitch leaned toward him, Tsar knew it was an invitation to make his next move.

_"Come here," he said quietly._

With a small grunt Pitch gave in and calmly laid his head between Tsar's shoulder and neck, sighing shakily in the warmth of another person.  
The truth is, he wasn't in his right mind this day.  
Not necessarily so far from a good state to be at risk for a flashback of past pains, but it was a mindset sad enough for him to know he wouldn't have pleasant dreams.  
Tsar wrapped his arms around him, both hands on his person and one now rubbing his back.

_"There we go..."_

Just the pure aura Tsar exuded was calming, and as he lay on him Pitch could smell his sweet skin -- a perfectly blended mix of jasmine and lavender, scents nearly as lunar as his existence.  
His breaths were shaking, but his eyes stayed dry.

_"You're supposed to be sleeping._  
_You're restless, just like last time..._  
_What's going on...?"_

He never stopped rubbing his back.

_"....Nothing..."_

Pitch's voice was shy and almost a little guilty, as if he should be ashamed of his own emotions.  
He was prone to mood swinging and having bouts of misery and a little self loathing, as the others had long seen by this point.  
Needless to say, they would often lose their temper just as easily as he did.  
It was hard not to, for everyone.  
And while he didn't blame those who had physically hurt him in the past for attacking or harming him, the memory of facing them while it happened could still hurt from time to time.  
And now that he was in a relationship, and trying to process being cared about and having someone be so patient with him, he's had to be a little vulnerable and let Tsar in.  
No one's ever been allowed in.

_"There's nothing to be ashamed of."_

_"I disagree..."_

_"I know you do."_

_"The embodiment of fear should not be afraid of his dreams..."_

Tsar smiled again.

 _"And now I disagree with_ you _._  
_Hm."_

He held Pitch a little more deeply.  
Pitch knew deep down Tsar was right, but it still cut right through him to feel so weak and mentally unstable.  
It was scary.  
There was silence for a long time.  
So long in fact, Tsar started to believe maybe Pitch had fallen asleep on him; something he was hoping for.  
But finally, Pitch's hushed, somber voice rippled the silence hesitantly.

"I'm always...  
I'm a-always....naked, and...wandering around the workshop.  
Everyone can see me, and they just stare at me; they don't say anything, they don't walk away, nor do they come closer.  
They all just stand still, including the yetis.  
And I'm just walking.  
And it's so quiet...  
There's no noise to take the focus off of me, no movement.  
On the outside I'm quiet and slow and try to pretend that I'm not freaking out the way I am on the inside.  
I can't hide, and all I can think about is trying to find my damned clothes and for whatEVER reason, I can't use the shadows..."

As he spoke he absent mindedly allowed his hand to crawl up to Tsar's shoulder, stiffly gripping the fabric just enough for Tsar to feel how deeply disturbed Pitch was by this dream.  
Just opening up about that put a taste of acid in Pitch's mouth, and twisted his stomach into knots.  
It sounded like a mild enough dream, it wasn't a sleep terror or a daymare for sure, but it was just...stressful.  
It was a dream of anxiety, a dream about humiliation, and Tsar could already imagine why Pitch was dreaming like this.  
He knew how stripped down he felt, how exposed Pitch had become since he had to stay at the North Pole.  
Pitch was a sly, conservative, internalized man who, much to others' surprise, felt very real and deep feelings.  
Too often, those feelings were discarded or underestimated, no matter how he tried to show them (although his ways of showing emotions were very unusual, thus the communication was easily lost between him and the others).  
He was very private, emotionally and physically.  
And now, he was very emotionally frail, which he normally only allowed himself to display by himself in the comfort of his lair.  
But living at the workshop, everyone now saw his many moods and how he handled himself -- how he liked to sleep, his feeding habits and much more.  
They saw him when he was less composed and more playful, which he believed himself not to care about but deep down, it was a big deal.  
No one had ever seen the Boogeyman in such an intimate living space, and subconsciously it weighed on him.  
But worst of all, Pitch didn't trust anyone, and it was that which made the exposure so hard to handle.  
Enemies everywhere he looked could see him and tended to watch him closely, because they didn't trust him either, and Pitch knew it.  
Even though Sandy would sometimes sooth his daymares, and Jack would occasionally invite him to go cause a little harmless mischief somewhere, it wasn't enough to ease the massive insecurity.  
He was trying to trust Tsar now, though.  
It was hard, but he was still trying, and the celestial spirit rewarded every moment of that effort.

_"I see._  
_I think that would be disturbing for anyone..._  
_How often do you have these?"_

_"A lot, anymore._  
_But when it's not those dreams, it's butterflies..._  
_I don't know why, still..."_

His voice was starting to sound a little more trailed off, which was good news to Tsar.  
As Pitch grew groggier, Tsar spoke more hushed.

_"Okay..._  
_Do you want to lie down?"_

_"No."_

_"You'd feel so much better if you did."_

_"No..."_

_"I can hide you under the blanket if you want."_

_"....................."_

_"...Would you feel better under the bed?"_

_"I don't want to sleep..."_

His hand was loose, no longer gripping Tsar's robe.  
Eventually he just laid his hand in his own lap.

_"You need to sleep, Pitch._  
_It's your day to sleep, and if you don't you'll be tired tonight._  
_You don't want that, right?"_

Frustrated in knowing Tsar was right while still wanting to resist, Pitch let out a low and long groan while he rubbed his feet together.  
He was like a child sometimes, a thought that briefly almost made Tsar chuckle, but he decided to stifle it in order to spare Pitch anymore embarrassment or confusion.  
It was amazing, how tender he had to be with him sometimes and how forward he had to be at other times.  
Pitch needed a lot of work and patience.

_"I'm sorry..._  
_It's going to be all right."_

Tsar gently kissed the fabric that laid over Pitch's shoulder before feeling the Nightmare King melt into his hold a little more.  
Feeling that loss of tension, he knew Pitch couldn't fight it anymore, and finally moved with him to lay him down.  
As they moved Pitch protested verbally, but physically there was no fight.

_"Tsar, stop._  
_Tsar..."_

_"Your eyes aren't even open anymore," he uttered to him as he laid him on his back on the soft bed._

As the dim light hit his face, Tsar could really see the steep lines under Pitch's eyes.  
It was heart breaking.  
He carefully rolled him to his right side, knowing well that Pitch was a suspicious creature that preferred to sleep on his side or belly.  
For now, the side seemed best.  
Pitch's voice became much more frightened once he knew was about to lose this fight.

_"No..."_

Over him the cover went; right up to his ears.  
He was so comfortable, in seconds he slipped away while Tsar laid beside him and touched his arm from over the blanket comfortingly.  
Tsar had the power to influence dreams or simulate dream-like states, but he could not protect Pitch from bad dreams -- he was not the Sandman.  
All he could do was stay with Pitch for a little while, coming and going from the bedroom quietly throughout the day to make sure he wasn't having bad dreams.  
Eventually, Tsar asked Sandy to let him have just the lightest pinch of dream sand, which he used to enable Pitch a deep, dreamless sleep.  
He would later wake up feeling much better, and by the end of the next night he was his snide, wicked self again, and was much less irritable about being touched.  
He didn't like to talk about the vulnerable moments, but he never forgot how good Tsar treated him when he needed it.  
It was refreshing, if not a bit baffling, to say the least.  
But there was still much, much learning to be done.  
So for just a moment, Pitch would take the good he could get, and learn at his own pace.

 

 

\--End--


End file.
